


She Loved In Silence

by Izzylike



Series: Snips, and Snails, and Puppy-Dogs' Tails [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, What Was I Thinking?, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzylike/pseuds/Izzylike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ser Swann is more her guard than anything, she comes to notice. He shadows her easily, and she becomes accustom to his presence. If he brought forth a mailed hand to touch her shoulder, she found she did not flinch away as she may have before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Loved In Silence

**Author's Note:**

> For the Prompt: "Sansa/Any + (Sansa/Viserys or Sansa/Joffrey), Sansa ends up married to the king (Joffrey or Viserys) but falls in love with someone else.  
> Basically, Sansa as Kathryn Howard."
> 
> I chose Kingsguard? What did I just do? I apologize.

After she is wed to Joffrey no one at court sees Sansa Stark for two days. When she finally reappears, she is trembling at her husband’s side and forcing a smile, a bruise on her right cheek still dark on her pale skin. King Joffrey seems in better moods at court, and many consider it a blessing. And if servants hear the Queen’s cries at night, they show no traces of it.

She is just beginning to show signs of being with child when she first meets the stuttering squire of her uncle-in-law. He almost walks into her, arms full of rolled parchments and books, and Ser Swann, who’d been escorting her to her quarters, is quick to move forward and grasp the boy by his arm, effectively stopping him. The books and parchments fall to the ground as the dark-haired boy drops his arms, looking startled at Ser Swann in his white armour. 

Sansa flinches at the sound of the fallen materials hitting the ground and feels her mother’s stomach begin to act up. One hand flies to her mouth while the other rests against her stomach, and suddenly both male’s attention is on her. She hears Ser Swann orders the boy to watch her while he fetches a maester and leans heavily against the cool stone wall, before closing her eyes. She feels so warm, it cannot be healthy. 

Sansa is doing her best to swallow down the bile rising in her throat and breathe calmly. She feels a warm hand touch her upper arm lightly and flinches, eyes opening in panic. The dark-haired boy has pulled his hand away and looks just as panicked as she feels. When she lurches forward to fall to her knees, she feels his hands wrap around her shoulders to hold her up slightly as he falls to his knees with her. And then Ser Swann rushes to them, pushes the boy away from her, and lifts her in his arms like she is a child. Maester Pycelle is not far behind and lets out a soft “hmm,” before ordering her to bed. 

Ser Swann carries her away but she sees the dark-haired boy, still on the floor, from where her head rests on his broad shoulders. For a brief moment their eyes meet and she wonders if the panic there still mirrors her own, before she turns to let her cheek rest against the cool metal of Ser Swann’s armour. 

She is bedridden for near a week before she is allowed to leave her room, with Ser Swann shadowing her, of course. She is told she must be careful and silently nods in understanding. Though the babe within her is still living, they fear any strain may hurt her. Joffrey is ordered to keep away from her bed, which he does not take kindly to, but he does not strike her, only glowers at her. It is because of this that Sansa’s hate for the babe growing inside of her lessens a little. 

She is kept away from Joffrey and rarely has to face him. She has taken to having her meals in her own chambers “for her health,” she tells those who question, and Maester Pycelle nods in agreement at her course of action. 

Ser Swann is more her guard than anything, she comes to notice. He shadows her easily, and she becomes accustom to his presence. If he brought forth a mailed hand to touch her shoulder, she found she did not flinch away as she may have before. His mailed hand began to be a comfort to her, and it would not be strange for her to lean gently against him in the corridors as she stood at a window to take in the view it offered. 

Sansa begins to sew blankets for the babe in her while sitting at her window, Ser Swann sitting at ease somewhere behind her. She can only sew one gold blanket with a black stag on it before she begins to cry, realizing that as soon as the babe inside her is born Joffrey will begin to visit her bed again. Ser Swann makes quick work on coming to her side and kneeling beside her, one mailed hand resting on her back while the other took the needle from her. She shifts just enough that curling against him would not be a hard task and rests her head against him his chest while her arms wrap around his neck, Baratheon gold blanket still clutched in one hand. 

He holds perfectly still as she cries against him, hand still on her back. She can feel the babe shift inside her and begins to cease her weeping. She takes in shaky breath as she forces more tears back and then closes her eyes. He makes no move to pull away from her, and the hand at her back beings to make a clumsy attempt at soothing circles. She opens her eyes tiredly, before raising her head and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

After what feels like an eternity she pulls away from him and shakingly sets the blanket on her lap. She stares at it there, unable to look at the larger man in the room with her. Ser Swann stays kneeling for a moment before standing up. She flinches, expecting a strike from the mailed hands she has come to trust. 

Sansa looks up, blue, blue eyes meeting Ser Swann’s own dark eyes. He makes no move to strike her, only looks down at her with sad eyes. 

“Forgive me, Ser Swann, I know not what came over me.” 

She can feel tears begin to form again, and casts her gaze to the view her window offers. Cold metal touches her face and his metal-clad thumb brushes a stray tear away.


End file.
